Sestina 4

Collaboration with Aytch Rae

He knew as he sat red faced, had no business driving in traffic
his hair cut short and combed was all salt and little pepper
thick bifocals heavy on his nose, still buildings and signs seen with a squint.
Shattered around his idling car, the lobby of a hotel.
Trembling hand searches for reverse, wide eyes stare at where the bellboy flew
brick and wood and windshield litter his lap

Yorkie in rubble flecked bow pauses mid-lap
over saucer. Vacuum purrs on high traffic
rug; bellboy no longer griping about his flu.
Chandelier's crystal tears pepper
potted plants. Fallen star scattered hotel.
Shock paints surreal landscape with a squint.

Crooked gap toothed smile and half drunk Popeye squint
He struggled to stagger through another victory lap
Another round of bloody mary's lobby of airport hotel
Kid next to him gets a why don't you go play in traffic
Spit at him, bartender mixes using too much pepper
Another meeting missed due to brown bottle flu

Vicious mammalian hissing scrabbled from the flue
head scrunched to neck he peered up through a squint.
Wife's terror-claws in his shirt, no talk could pep her
up to broom out from cabin chimney's lap
(a ratcatorbat) the sharp-tooth spitting. Damn creature traffic.
Squelch the urge to squeal and let his macho tell.

Three old friends a weekend in Vegas and the best suite in the hotel
Round after round head spinning merry-go-round the night flew
By too fast for memories to catch. Staggering through yellow cab traffic
Heavy lidded red shot eyes fuzzy tongued mirror squint
Emptying pockets more receipts than cash lipstick stain from last lap
Dance. Text message blink shit have to call Pepper.

Bare-foot and bath-robed, without pepper
spray, waiting for ass-face's hotel
departure. Despite the dark, she took another lap
around the block. Once again he flew
off the handle. Eyesight and hindsight both squinting
against the light, she ignored the glares of oncoming traffic.

Pizza Dr. Pepper and movies, those friday nights flew by
Treating his mom's place like a hotel, Mikey that squint ass nerd
Too fat to finish one lap around the track Coach G muttered go play in traffic